


until the sun rises in an orange sky

by pleurer



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: 5 Times, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Friends, F/M, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Pre-Canon, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-11-27 12:09:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20948111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleurer/pseuds/pleurer
Summary: Five times Dimitri and Edelgard held hands through the years.





	until the sun rises in an orange sky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ashglory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashglory/gifts).

> This is a treat for the prompt 'Holding Hands.' All your freeforms were amazing, and it was hard to choose just one!
> 
> Spoilers for the Blue Lions route.

I.

“El, wait up,” Dimitri pleaded.

“Hurry up, Dima,” said Edelgard, shooting him a look of scorn at not being able to outrun her. “If we don’t get there soon, we’ll miss the sunset. Come on, I’ll help you.” 

She took his hand firmly in her own and helped the struggling boy up the rough crags of the mountain. The cold winter wind whipped harshly against his face, but he felt warmth bloom in the pit of his stomach at the touch of her hand. 

When they arrived at the summit, he forgot to breathe. The orange sunset cascaded over the hills of Fodlan, bathing the scenery in a gorgeous, warm light.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?" said Edelgard. "I told you it was worth it.”

But Dimitri’s eyes were fixated not on the sunset, but in the bright, enthralling joy behind Edelgard’s violet eyes. 

“It is, El,” he said. “It really is.” 

—

II.

It was strange that bandits should discover them during their training exercise on a regular day. Dimitri almost wondered if they had been tipped off. And then he did not have time to wonder any further, for the three of them were busy running for their lives.

It was Claude who found the hideout— a tiny cave that looked like it had been dug out by an animal, hidden behind a thick bush. “Come on, your Princeliness,” he whispered harshly. “Get in there.” Without looking back, he brushed aside the foliage and crawled in. Dimitri followed suit, but when he looked over his shoulder, Edelgard stood firm.

“No,” said Edelgard sternly. “The three of us will not fit in such a small space.”

“Do you intend to stand here until they find us?” said Dimitri. “We will have to make do.”

The look of annoyance she shot him was achingly familiar. They had not talked about their past together since setting foot in the academy, and Dimitri wished fervently that they could have a moment all to themselves. But this was not it.

He tugged at Edelgard’s hand in his own, and pulled her into the cramped space. He barely had time to guiltily revel in the warmth of her body, to wish he was holding her hand for the first time in years under different circumstances. All he could do was listen for the approaching footsteps, coming closer and closer— and then fading away entirely, heading in a different direction.

Claude broke the heavy silence with a sigh, poking at his now messy braid forlornly.

“Well, there goes my good hair day.”

Dimitri and Edelgard shared a look. 

“That is the least of our worries,” said Edelgard. The three of them were crushing each other’s limbs. Their route back to the monastery was cut off. They’d need to go elsewhere to seek help eventually, or face the bandits alone. 

But in the moment, a strange thing happened. They began to laugh. Dimitri was not sure who had done so first, or what emotion had propelled it. Adrenaline, perhaps, or relief. But in no time at all, the three of them were letting out hushed giggles, looking at one another in a rare moment of companionship.

— 

III. 

The Winter Ball was nearly over. Dimitri had spent the entire night dancing around the one girl he wanted to dance with. So many times their shoulders had brushed, with different dance partners in tow. So many times he had looked to see if she would meet his eyes, to no avail.

But he was pleasantly drunk, now— Sylvain had apparently snuck something onto the grounds, and he was thankful for it. So with that new bravery, Dimitri cleared his throat and tapped Edelgard on the shoulder.

She spun around, eyeing him with a look of surprise. “Dimitri? What is it?”

“May I dance this have?”

Immediately Sylvain, who was standing nearby, burst into a loud fit of laughter. To Dimitri’s horror, even the Professor— the same Professor who rarely showed emotion— began to laugh. 

“I meant,” said Dimitri, and then immediately forgot how to form a sentence when he saw that Edelgard was _ smiling, _a genuine, beautiful smile, her eyes twinkling with amusement. 

“I know what you meant, Dimitri,” she said. “The answer is yes.” Formal as always, and with a reserved joy on her face, she took his hand and led him onto the dance floor. 

—

IV.

“Why didn’t you kill me?”

Dimitri stood over Edelgard, lying in a pool of her own blood on the ground, with the remains of war all around them. He had wounded her, yes. She had stabbed him with the dagger he gave her all those years ago with the intent to kill. But he found he could not retaliate with the same intentions after all this time. He was not sure if his inability to kill her was selfless or selfish.

“I have lost,” she said, looking up at him with eyes that, had he not known better, might be perceived as prideful. Instead, he recognized the look on her face as _ imploring. _ “Kill me. It was all you wanted for five years. Do you not want it any longer?”

“I will not be goaded into putting you out of your misery,” said Dimitri. “I am atoning for my sins. You should atone for yours.”

“Atone, then,” said Edelgard, for she would take her own pride to the grave. “Atone by ridding Fodlan of the Adrestian Emperor.”

“Fodlan is already rid of her,” said Dimitri. “I don’t need to kill you to win this war, El.” 

The look on her face was achingly sad. She looked tired, and lonely, and defeated. It was then that he understood it, fully— he meant something to her after all. Not enough to naively stake a dream on a life together with him, but enough to occupy a place in an otherwise cold heart. Somehow, against better judgment, that was enough for him.

He leaned down, and, very purposefully, took her hand in his own. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then her eyes fell shut. Unconscious, her chest still rose and fell with slow breaths. Had this not been a war, he might have taken her into his arms and held her. Instead, he said, “Mercedes, heal her as best as you can. We will bring her back to the Kingdom prison.”

—

V.

Everyone said it was unbecoming of a king to sleep at a prisoner’s side in the infirmary. The guards who passed by said that they saw him holding her hand sometimes. They gossiped about the true meaning of their relationship, but any and all talk was shut down by the new Archbishop, the old Professor of the Officers’ Academy. 

The Kingdom was changing. Fodlan was changing. One thing stayed the same.

When Edelgard woke up, Dimitri was at her side, holding her hand in his own. He was asleep, messy blond hair splayed against the bedsheets. She leaned over as best as she could without reopening her wounds, and pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head. She allowed herself to squeeze his hand in her own, and looked out the window at the sun, rising into an orange sky, casting a new light into a room that no longer felt so small.

**Author's Note:**

> Redated for exchange author reveals.


End file.
